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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646351">tell me you want me to stay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreams_and_bones/pseuds/dreams_and_bones'>dreams_and_bones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jukebox on Repeat [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, i think, idk how to do tags man, it's all ive got, juebox, juke, juke first kiss, just more soft juke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:55:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreams_and_bones/pseuds/dreams_and_bones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her face on his skin releases something, and warmth spreads from the crook of his neck where her she is soft against him, and his chest loosens ever so slightly. She reaches up with her left hand to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, and there is too much between them, too much air where she is avoiding the guitar, too much uncertainty in where they stand with each other,  too much confusion on the line between platonic and romantic, in the meaning of her face in his hands hands and his tears on her cheeks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julie Molina/Luke Patterson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Jukebox on Repeat [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tell me you want me to stay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This just sort of dumped out of my brain while staring at <a>this art</a> by <a>@illgetmerope</a>, which lives rent free in my mind.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julie watches as Luke's fingers dance across the fretboard, soft and mournful. When he plays for an audience, he is all focused outward, reflecting energy back at the crowd. Here, alone, in the studio, he is turned in on himself, back arched down, head bowed, knees bent slightly. All focus, none of it performative. His eyebrows are bunched together, his expression all hurt.   </p>
<p>His finger slips, a note out of key, and he pauses, taking a shaky breath, the last wrong note ringing quietly across the room.  </p>
<p>Julie walks across the studio, bare feet soft on the carpet. She doesn't know what he needs, or what she's doing, really, but she can't just stand there and watch him. When the space between them is gone, she lets her impulse guide her, and buries her face in his neck, her mouth pressing just above his collarbone. Luke lets out another breath, no steadier than the last, tilting his head back to give her more access, pulling the guitar closer against his body. The skin of his neck is soft and warm against her cheek, and there is tension written in his body, his tendons making valleys between them.  </p>
<p>She whispers his name and he closes his eyes.   </p>
<p>Luke's chest feels hollow but for the memory of a heart pounding in it, his muscles pulled tight around his ribs, hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to sing.  </p>
<p>Hard to play. Hard to <i>play </i>, which only compounds the strings pulled tight across his body, the  rubber bands running through his veins where melodies should be,  the tension in the guitar strings for once an obstacle when set against his shaking hands. </p>
<p>Her face on his skin releases something, and warmth spreads from the crook of his neck where her she is soft against him, and his chest loosens ever so slightly. She reaches up with her left hand to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, and there is too much between them, too much air where she is avoiding the guitar, too much uncertainty in where they stand with each other,  too much confusion on the line between platonic and romantic, in the meaning of her face in his hands hands and his tears on her cheeks.  </p>
<p>There is too much between them, but her lips are on his collarbone and he swings his guitar around to his back and the air between them is gone, and her fingers twist in his hair, and his hands are at her waist, and he can feel her whole body pressed against his, and he buries his face in her hair and she is warm and she is close and for a moment nothing matters except that they are there together.  </p>
<p>The strings around his chest start to loosen, one by one.  </p>
<p>They are still, breathing into each other, hyperaware of their proximity, of their breath on the other’s skin, of the lines that have barely been crossed and the ones yet left to step over.  </p>
<p>He whispers her name but it is low in his chest and the only thing stopping his hands from shaking is how they are pressed into her waist, and he can feel when her breath catches.  </p>
<p>
  <i>What do we do now?</i>
</p>
<p>Her words are a whisper, and they reach through the tension and tug at his heart, the rubber bands in his veins loosening their hold, drawing back to burn in his chest, and he is lifting her chin up.  </p>
<p>She is beautiful.  </p>
<p>There is nothing left for him to do, and so when he presses his mouth against hers, it is with all the confidence of a drowning man who has exhausted all other options. Her lips are soft against his, which he knows are cracked and worried raw, and she opens her mouth readily to him, pressing up onto her toes, her hand on the back of his neck warm and insistent, and everything falls away.  </p>
<p>She is kissing him back and it is softer and more transcendent than he had ever imagined, the hollow space in his chest fills with light. He lifts a hand to her hair, cradling her head and pressing his body closer against hers.  </p>
<p>She whispers his name again, this time into his mouth, pulling away until their lips only brush. He opens his eyes and looks down at her, and there is that steady fire that has carried them through the past few months.  </p>
<p>There is everything between them, and it will never be enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Come say hi on Tumblr <a>@phantomsandsunsets</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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